A Memento of the Dalish
by Nebulad
Summary: "You have something for me?" he asked curiously. She nodded, letting an anxious laugh burst from her ribs as he threaded his fingers with hers. "Don't get your hopes up, lethallin, you're going to hate it, but... I'm sort of hoping that you'll take it anyway because it's the only thing I have to give," she said, grateful when they finally crossed the threshold into her quarters.


Night crawled into Skyhold like it always did, stealing into corners and snatching the dim sunlight from the sky. Saevin shifted restlessly behind his door- the second door, so that Varric wouldn't see her either- before finally working up the nerve to walk in, praying that he was already asleep so she had an excuse to flee with her foolish present.

A relatively unsurprising miracle occurred and she found him already asleep, his head resting placidly against his plush rose chair. He fell asleep in the oddest places. She smiled, relieved beyond measure that he wasn't awake to receive the silly gift she had planned for him, and habitually reached over to straighten his papers- sketches (some of her, very flattering- others of Varric and Dorian and the rest of their inner circle), long paragraphs in written Elvish, scattered maps of places they'd been, and landmarks. If Solas felt sleep coming he would drop everything and it left his work in disorganized piles that he never bothered to sort through is any meaningful way. As an afterthought, she leaned down and kissed his head. _The one thing in this place that is wholly mine, _she thought fondly. She'd become a symbol to the _shemlen, _her fortress was meant to be a reflection of the power afforded to her because of it, every single scrap of clothing and weapon she owned was a direct benefit from the Inquisition... but Solas was different. He was special and he was hers, even if the only way they'd met was through the accident of the Anchor.

His eyes blinked open and her stomach turned. "Sh, _abelas_ _haren, _go back to sleep," she whispered frantically. He shook his head, blinking the dreams out of his eyes and straightening himself up. Damn her foolish impulses to _the Void. _"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly, hoping that if she kept her voice gentle it would somehow lull him back into the Fade.

"It's fine, _vhenan, _I was waiting for you when I nodded off. If I stayed here all night I would wake with a knot in my neck," he said, standing up. She bit back an assurance that she would work it out for him. "I was wondering if you would allow me the use of your bed tonight?" He had that smile on his face, the one that teased her to try and coax redness from her ears and across her nose. He only asked to watch her fidget, as he had to have known by then that she would never refuse him.

"Of course-," and no matter how easy to was to say he always got the blush he'd wordlessly summoned, "-but I... I have something... for you. Before you go back to sleep." She took his hand and started to pull him to her room, thanking Mythal that Varric and the nobles had cleared out for the evening. Vivienne still stood, perched on her balcony, and Saevin cast her an anxious wave with her free hand. The Enchanter rolled her eyes fondly and turned back to her window.

"You have something for me?" he asked curiously. She nodded, letting an anxious laugh burst from her ribs as he threaded his fingers with hers.

"Don't get your hopes up, _lethallin, _you're going to hate it, but... I'm sort of hoping that you'll take it anyway because it's the only thing I have to give," she said, grateful when they finally crossed the threshold into her quarters. It always made her nervous when Solas followed her to bed- she didn't give half a halla shit what the nobility thought of her dalliance with a hedge mage, but she worried that if enough pressure was applied people would begin demanding that Solas leave. Apparently humans were finicky about their holy figures.

"Now you've made me curious," he said, moving closer to her now that they were out of public. She smiled thinly and climbed the staircase into her room, cursing when she realized that she'd forgotten to make the bed. Again. She normally went through great pains to keep the room as tidy as she could, absurdly afraid that Solas would be put off by the mess.

He didn't say anything, just pulled her into the messy sheets and then towards him. They laid together, legs tangled, and obviously stalling for time, she absently urged him to shed the tunic he wore. He obeyed with a sideways glance that told her that she was transparent. _"Vhenan, _you don't have to-," he began but she shook her head.

"I know. I want to. You... you are special. To me. I mean, you're special in general but _also _to me. So I wanted to give you something that means a lot to me, but you're also going to hate it because it's a stupid Dalish thing and stupid Dalish legends that are probably wrong," she said, her words escaping her mouth faster than she could think them. He reached out and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes.

"I am sorry, Saevin. I do not mean to imply that..." he paused, then shook his head. "I have told you before that I expect too much of the Dalish. I disdain their lack of knowledge only because of years of believing that the ignorance they lived in was wilful. It made me bitter and I do not want you to think that I believe the same of you," he said, pressing a few kisses to her jaw. She grinned. He was so much softer when he was tired.

"I'm the one good Dalish?" she asked. He shook his head and opened his mouth, but she nudged him. "I was joking, Solas. I understand I just... I'm just going to give you this because I'm losing my nerve with ever passing second so-," she took his hand and pressed a ring into his palm. He lifted it gently to study it, his eyes narrowing as he worked out the details. It was sylvanwood, rare and _old_, and was carved carefully. The cyclical design seemed to tell a story- there was a wolf, and...

"Fen'Harel," he said, his voice ambiguously tight. "The Betrayal of the gods, then?"

"Yes," she said simply. She didn't know what else there was. "I know it might be wrong, and judging by the look on your face it's probably wrong, but... I don't know, it's my Keeper ring and-,"

"Your what?"

"Keeper Ring. Every Keeper gets one, and Fen'Harel's betrayal is on there to remind us to be vigilant. Dashana sent it to me with her last letter: a gift, since she thought I might be tired of Andraste by now." She smiled sadly. For all the nastiness that came from her clan, sometimes Saevin missed it worse than anything. She worked to remind herself that they didn't understand how they hurt her and she'd never told them.

"Should you be giving this to me, _vhenan?" _he asked, tracing the edge of it carefully. She shrugged, assuring herself that his hesitance was more concern than it was avoidance. He wasn't trying to get out of accepting the token.

"Probably not, but I love you and..." Her eyes went wide because she didn't mean to just blurt out that she loved him like that but she had and _things were escaping her control she didn't know what to say next, _"T-The ring. It's... The ring is important to me, even if it's wrong. I... I don't know if I'm ever going to be Keeper or not, but the role was so important to me for so long and I... wanted you to have it. Because you and the ring are important to me." _Smooth._

He was quiet for a while, then smiled. "May I wear it or would that upset your Keeper?" he asked, still treating the ring as if it were made of glass. She laughed, shifting upwards to kiss his cheek.

"Yes you can wear it and yes, my Keeper would shit a nug if she knew." He laughed and slipped it on- it fit him fine, which she had expected. It had been large on her, but she suspected the ring was half a relic. Sylvanwood didn't just grow on trees- well, sylvanwood was a very rare material that also happened to come from trees- so sometimes a First would receive a new one if June blessed the clan with a supply of it before they became Keepers, or sometimes they received old ones that were saved.

"Thank-you, _da'vin, _I... I will treasure it. I only wish I had something to give you in return," he murmured with an absently troubled look, leaning down to kiss her. She held him there for a moment, and she could feel the ring against her face when he reached up to touch her cheek and on her hip when his hands dropped.

"You're a fantastic kisser, Sol, and that's all I ask," she whispered with a smile.

.

..

...

...

...

What seemed like ages later, after he'd watched Corypheus fall and his orb shatter- after he'd left her standing there, peering around ruins and anxiously calling for him while Dorian urged her away _("He probably went back to Skyhold without us, Sae, I can't imagine Solas being much of a party person- Orlais aside of course...")_- a god stands and glowers down at a worn map of Thedas. It's riddled with inaccuracies due to it's age, probably able to be dated some time before Andraste's slave rebellion, which frustrates him endlessly. She had a better one in her war room, even with all the daggers driven into it.

He is alone in the chamber with only candles lighting the vaguest traces of the world from ages past, and he paces by himself. She always helped when he sank into a _mood, _tracing her hands along his shoulders and pressing kisses against his ears. She'd slowly become an expert in warm drinks that would relax him, just as he had learned breathing techniques to soothe her anxiety attacks and taught her quiet words from ancient lullabies to hum against her shoulder while he held her.

Remembering does not improve his mood.

He traces the edge of what would have been the Orlesian-Fereldan border, and then carefully over the approximate place where Tarasyl'an Te'las lay nestled in the mountains. She was still there, still making excursions out into the world. She was rebuilding Emprise du Lion slowly, and frequently went to visit Briala at Court. Dorian and Cole went with her everywhere, with The Iron Bull and the First Enchanter occasionally trading for the position of third. Neither of them were used to being a party staple and it probably exhausted them to be hauled around so often. Dorian was used to it- indeed he used to grow sullen when Saevin would not take him places. Cole, likewise, enjoyed exploring new areas and could hardly tire of the novelty of helping people. It was _Solas_'spot that Saevin needed to fill, frantically trying to teach herself spirit magic to cover the weakness that his departure had left with their team.

Her magic was brutal and hard, so his spells had always been difficult for her to master. She'd spent her whole life trying to force her talent into mild and nurturing roles, and when she'd been made head of Inquisition the facade dropped and her destructive skills had flourished. He had teased her for it once upon a time, kissing the electricity that ran down the points of her ears when she was embarrassed and whispering to her that she was a force of nature. His little storm.

An old, old god drops his weight into a chair that isn't nearly as comfortable as the one that had been his what felt like years ago, and exhales a breath that's stale in his throat. His layers of furs and leathers are heavy against his shoulders and the ring he wears on his hand- the ring she had given him, so afraid that he would hate the gesture, the ring that he hadn't removed since the day she had given it to him- clicks as his palm slams against the useless _useless_ map.

He misses her more than he would miss an arm taken from him, but his exile is self-imposed and he holds out the vaguest hope that perhaps one day he will stop regretting the path he has chosen for himself.


End file.
